Page 57 of Only Scandal Will Do

When she reached her rooms, Margery helped her out of her breeches and dressed her for bed, though the sun still shone high in the sky. Once the maid had left, Kat lay down, drew the covers over her head and gave in to the tears she had fought ever since Duncan had rebuffed her.

“Oh, God!” she wailed miserably into her pillow, “now I’m thinking of him as Duncan.” And had done so since that encounter in the park, when she’d begun to fall in love with her husband.

From that day, she’d desperately wanted to know his true feelings for her. Did he feel affection for her, as his actions indicated? Or had he indeed married her just to circumvent a scandal in the making and produce an heir? Was he still using his rake’s tricks to seduce her into his bed?

She would have said the first, until he’d jerked back at her touch. That cringe spoke as no other gesture ever could. He did not trust her, believed her capable of another vicious attack.

They’d come so far from where they’d started and now...now... Vicious sobs wracked her. She was right back where she’d been in March--not knowing who the man in the golden mask was or what he intended to do with her.

* * * *

Kat awoke to light in her room. It must be night, for the light came from beside her bed, not from the window across the room, as sunlight would. As she struggled to rouse herself, her leg encountered a figure seated on the side of the bed. She raised herself on one elbow, her eyes dazzled by the light.

“Margery? I must have fallen asleep. What time is it?”

“It has just gone midnight, my lady,” her husband replied, in deep, calm tones. She scrambled into a sitting position and pressed her back hard against the headboard.

“Wh-what are you doing here, my lord?” She couldn’t tell if her teeth were chattering from fear or cold, though it was not a particularly cold night. Why was he here? The possible reasons for his presence filled her with both dread and longing.

“I was concerned about you, my lady.” He was dressed for dinner in an elegant suit of russet and gold that caught the light of the single candle. “You said you were unwell and would not be down to dinner, so I sent a tray up. When it came down untouched after two hours, I sent for Margery, who said you were sleeping. I have been waiting for you to awaken ever since.”

His face showed in stark relief, the planes of its aristocratic lines accentuated by the sharp contrast of light and dark. It was a young face, though one that had matured quickly through great sorrow, perhaps even shame, and great pain. The latter, to her disgrace, she had put there in some measure, but still he showed anxiety for her welfare. She was sure of that. Whatever else he felt for her, he did not wish her harm.

Kat drew a careful breath. “I am sorry to have disturbed your evening. As I said earlier, I was fatigued from my unaccustomed exertions in the match. But I thank you for your kindness in sending the tray. And for looking in on me.” She managed to smile even though she wished him far away from her at this moment. Tears threatened again.

He bent closer and took her face in his hands, catching two teardrops that finally spilled from her eyes.

“Please, my lord,” she whispered. Captured by the great dark pools of his eyes, she could think of nothing else to say.

As though they had done this time and time again throughout eternity, he leaned closer, angled his head at the last moment and snuggled his lips against hers. They were soft and warm and sweet from the wine he’d had at dinner. A glow built in her center, a warmth that radiated outward, reaching down her arms, down her legs, between her thighs. Up through her neck and into her head, the warmth pulsed. Just at the touch of his lips on hers.

With the tip of his tongue, he drew the outline of her lips then, oh, so slowly traced the seam across the middle. All her bones seemed to come loose in her body. She parted her lips to protest, but Duncan accepted her invitation, sliding his tongue between them most naturally.

Then he dallied. Dawdled. Meandered about in her mouth, touching, tasting, teasing, until finally she retaliated and stroked into him, hesitant at first, then with greater abandon.

She only came back to herself, to sanity, when he deserted her lips and she opened her eyes. Duncan was still seated on the bed. He frowned a little and ran his finger over the curves he had just possessed.

“If that was ‘just a kiss,’ my lady, I will be happy to try again.” His dark eyes danced with merriment in the candlelight and his mouth puckered as he attempted to stifle a grin.

Swiftly, he leaned over, mere inches from her face, and she gasped.

“Because I won the forfeit, Lady Dalbury, I will be unable to teach you the disarm movement you claimed as your prize. However, there is no reason someone else cannot teach it to you.” His eyes narrowed with what looked like mischief. “I think you deserve to be taught properly. Therefore, I will employ Signore Fucile as your instructor.”

“Signore Fucile?” Excitement shot through her at the name and she struggled to sit up. “The Italian master?” Duncan’s presence, the kiss, her shame all faded as his words crowded everything else from her mind. But… “Would he teach a woman?”

“I will ask him, but if he says no, there are others who will teach you for the right price.”

A frown creased her brows. “Can money truly buy anything then?”

Duncan shook his head and teased a stray lock of her hair. “No, my dear, it cannot. Not the most important things.” His gaze lingered on her face. “But it can buy a great deal else. You must rest, my lady. We have much to do to make ready.” He stood up to go.

“You will send to Italy for Signore Fucile? Do you think he will journey so far, to England, just to give me lessons?” The audacity of the idea thrilled her to no end.

“I doubt very much Signore Fucile would leave Italy, even to give lessons to the King of

England himself. No, my lady.” Duncan’s face lit up in devilment. “The mountain must go to Mohammed. In ten days we sail for Italy.” And he quit the room long before she closed her mouth, speechless.

CHAPTER 25